


on the matter of vigilance

by rhindon



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: ...not really, Alternate Universe - Space, Coming of Tuor, Fluff, Gondolin, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 20:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhindon/pseuds/rhindon
Summary: In which Ecthelion really needs a break, Glorfindel reminisces, and Elemmakil finds himself in some deep trouble. Not necessarily in that proportion.





	on the matter of vigilance

**Author's Note:**

> The space au that no one asked for!

“Hey,” he said, and stopped himself, when he couldn’t think of another word.

Ecthelion gave him a smile, albeit a tired one.

“Don’t fret. This shouldn’t take too long,” he said, fingers briskly tying off his hair. Black strands, still glistening wet, left dark stains at the collar of his uniform. Long by army standards but shorter than usual, because he’d taken to hacking it off whenever he felt depressed, and they’d had rather a lot of reasons for depression in the past few months.

As long as Ecthelion didn’t mess around with needles or razors, though, Glorfindel felt he ought to refrain from commenting. It wasn’t like his own coping mechanisms were any better.

“Last time you said that,” he supplied instead, “you came back after three days.”

“I’ll try not to make it a trend,” Ecthelion’s voice was steady, any worry drained away. Glorfindel couldn’t tell whose sake that was for.

“And here I was, hoping we’d get some time together at last. You’re supposed to be on leave,” he sighed. The mattress was tantalizingly soft under his body. It was one of the few things in his room that weren’t strictly military; he knew how to push the rules. Not that it saw much use these days. Heaving another sigh, he rolled off his bed, dismissing Ecthelion’s shake of head with a smile of his own.

That was the thing about intelligence officers. The absolute lack of a personal life. Every little detail, every tiny movement of the enemy seemed to demand the highest scrutiny, and with the unrest along the Outer Perimeter Ecthelion had been running to and fro more often than not. Admittedly, duty on the front lines weren’t much better, but Glorfindel, at least, wasn’t irreplaceable. Any officer worth his salt could fill in his shoes decently enough.

As if he was reading his thoughts, Ecthelion chuckled wistfully.

“Do you ever miss it? HMA and all that? Gods, we were so young.”

In fact, it had been a while since Glorfindel had given any thought to Helcaraxë, or that shabby thing that they’d called an academy, but nonetheless, Ecthelion’s words triggered a fond laugh.

“We should never have been so eager to graduate. And we’re... what, thirty-four? thirty-five?” He groaned for show. “I don’t even remember.”

“Idril’s fourteen,” Ecthelion contemplated, not quite seriously. “Add twenty to that.”

Kind of dreary, when you counted your age in relation to your niece. Glorfindel strode across the length of the room and spread his arms. Ecthelion came to him with a snort. He smelled like tap water and soap, which was sensible, given he’d just come from the shower. Glorfindel held him tight and thought he could feel the ridges of his spine under the stiff uniform.

“Gondolin was a dream, then,” Ecthelion murmured next to his ear.

“And now it’s as needy as a newborn babe. What’s calling you, anyways?”

“Elemmakil. He reported sighting an unregistered vessel near the First Gate,” and here Ecthelion leaned into the embrace a bit more. “It’s probably wreckage from the Nirnaeth, but I can’t risk it. Not after Hùrin.”

“Better get going, Warden.”

Ecthelion almost cracked his ribs before letting go, a real smile dancing in his eyes, along with something that looked suspiciously like gratitude. Glorfindel gave a small push. Without another word, Ecthelion straightened, and walked out of the room in a handful of seconds. The door slid closed.

Glorfindel glanced regretfully at his bed. There was no chance of sleeping, now, and his latest cigarette pack had somehow vanished a day ago, no doubt at Idril’s courtesy.

It was going to be a long night.

 

 

Far beyond the heart of the city, a certain young soldier typed away the report that would announce the return of one Voronwë Aranwion, and the implosion of his ship.

At the helm of the said ship, following the meticulous directions of the said soldier, Tuor began the weary descent to the surface of the planet, creeping ever closer to the shadow of the Gate of Steel.

**Author's Note:**

> Might turn this into a series, might not, but I’ve been thinking about this au for a while and probably will write a Tuor/Idril fic when I have the time...


End file.
